


Lessons In Domesticity

by stilinskisparkles



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 00:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilinskisparkles/pseuds/stilinskisparkles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek kicks the door of the washer shut with a satisfying crack and hauls Stiles up on top of it.</p><p>“You are so—”</p><p>“What?” Stiles says, grinning at him. “I’m so what, Derek?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons In Domesticity

Stiles’ gaze drifts from his hundredth re-watch of  _Green Street_  and across to the window. There’s still snow falling outside, proper gorgeous flakes that land on the glass pane and slide down to pile up on the ledge outside. He tips his head to the side and stares at Derek.

For a few seconds, Derek ignores him, despite the fact Stiles  _knows_  Derek knows he’s being watched. Over the years he and Derek have become so wrapped up in one another, so aware of each other that even without wolf senses, Stiles can almost guarantee he knows when Derek’s walked into a room full of people.

Derek turns the page of his book, mouth ever so slightly turned up like he’s just waiting for Stiles to crack.

“Derek,” Stiles gives in after listening to the clock tick for sixty seconds, just watching Derek  _read_  like the totally enamoured creeper that he is. He’d feel worse about constantly staring at Derek if Derek wasn’t  _just_  as bad.

“Stiles,” Derek replies calmly.

“Whatchu reading?”

“How to train your human.”

“ _Ha_.”

 Derek lets his book fall to the side of the couch and twists so that he’s lying facing Stiles. “Why’d you pause the movie?”

Stiles shrugs. “Got bored.”

Derek widens his eyes in mock surprise. “Of a movie filled with idiots who think a game is worth beating the shit out of each other for? Color me shocked.”

“Colour you, shut your face.”

“Creative.”

“I try.”

Stiles shifts around on the comfy chair and groans when his legs slide off the arm again. “Fuck, why don’t we have bigger chairs in here?!”

“Because then we’d have to call them couches and everything would get very confusing.”

Stiles tugs off one of his socks and aims it at Derek’s head. “Funny man thinks he’s  _funny_.”

“There’s a contradiction.”

“I was born contrary, boo, you should be used to it by now.”

Derek snorts and picks his book back up. “If you’re looking for something to do, our sheets need washing.”

“I did them last time!”

“By last time, do you mean six months ago?”

“No!”

“I will blow you right now if you can tell me where we keep the laundry detergent.”

Stiles hesitates. “Uhhh, the cupboard above the washer?”

Derek flips his book open, shaking his head and grinning. “Nope.”

“Well, why don’t we do that? I mean, it’s logical that’s where we should keep it! I should get like, points for logic.”

“What so do points mean half a blow job? You want  _half_  a blow job?”

Stiles glares at him and rolls over so he’s facing the chair cushions. “Better than nothing,” he grumbles to himself.

Derek throws the book at his head.

“Ouch! Fucker!”

“Come on,” Derek says standing and stretching. Stiles  _cannot_  be blamed for his eyes being drawn to the nice, tanned skin that appears when Derek’s Henley rides up. He can still remember where he bit down right beside Derek’s hipbone this morning and Derek had jerked up against him, groaning.

“Where are we going? Are we going to have sex?”

“No.”

Stiles sighs loudly as their fingers tangle on the way up the stairs. “When did we become  _that_  couple, Derek? The one that only gets down and dirty once a day. I remember the good, old days when we’d never leave the bedroom.”

“We had one of those days yesterday.”

“Well, it’s been too long!”

“You’re ridiculous,” Derek thumbs at his pout and then drags him into the bedroom. “And you’re helping me with these.”

Stiles launches himself on the bed, burying his face in Derek’s pillow and wiggling around against the sheets. “They smell ok to me.”

“They smell like you and me, of course they smell fine,” Derek sighs exasperatedly. “But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t wash them.”

“Closet domestic goddess!” Stiles points an accusatory finger at him. “Do you want an apron for your birthday?”

Derek jabs a finger into his ribs and Stiles screeches, rolls away from him. “I was just asking! I need some ideas.”

“My birthday’s not for eleven months, Stiles.”

“Never too early to start planning for my one and only,” Stiles says loftily.

Derek jerks at the duvet and Stiles hits the floor with a thud.

“Douche!”

“Grab the shit out of the laundry basket,” Derek says, unconcerned. “See if there’s any towels that need doing.”

“I can’t fucking believe we’re doing laundry together. I feel so  _domestic_.”

“I can’t believe I’ve let you get away with not doing it for six years.”

“Hey, I  _dust_! I take out the garbage, I just like to leave the real manly stuff to you, precious housewife that you are.”

Derek snaps his teeth at him on their way back downstairs.

“You need me to explain how to turn it on?”

“Naw, I think I got it covered,” Stiles says easily, palming at the front of Derek’s sweats. Derek jerks forward and then grabs his hand.

“Stop it. We’re being productive here.”

“Fine,” Stiles sighs and shoves the sheets into the washing machine. “Slave driver.”

Derek looks pointedly at his sweats and then at Stiles. “Do I look like this is what I want to be doing with my Saturday afternoon?”

“Shouldn’t have been reading then,” Stiles sing songs. “It’s your own fault.”

Derek kicks the door of the washer shut with a satisfying crack and hauls Stiles up on top of it.

“You are so—”

“What?” Stiles says, grinning at him. “I’m so  _what_ , Derek?”

“Irritating,” Derek mutters, tugging off his tee shirt. “ _Annoying_ ,” he continues, pulling off his own sweater. Stiles hums as their chests meet, digs his fingers into Derek’s shoulders. “Impatient,” Derek says finally before whipping off his shorts with a snap. “And you drive me up the wall.”

“Gotta keep the magic alive, dude, seven year itch coming up.”

Derek tilts his head back to look him in the eye. “You think you’re gonna feel it?” He slips his hand inside Stiles’ boxers, curls it around his dick. “Gonna want a change?”

“Uh, what do  _you_  think? You getting bored?”

Derek smirks, leans forward to nose at his cheek, kiss him soundly. “Nope. Never,” he adds before dropping to his knees.

Stiles has no idea why people aren’t doing laundry all the damn time.

*

He catches himself watching Derek change a light bulb in the kitchen when he’s  _supposed_  to be making dinner.

“You want salad?” he asks in lieu of stepping forward and licking at the skin exposed as Derek tilts his head back to refit the lightshade.

“Mmm, please.”

“Gross.”

“You have to have some too.”

“I’ll have you know, I eat very healthily.”

“You eat garbage.”

“Making up for years of living with no salt.”

“You’re having salad,” Derek says firmly. “I’d kind of like you around for the next five decades.”

“Wow, I have officially become my father. Sorry, man, you should know there’s a lot of silent, sarcastic eyebrows in your future.”

“As opposed to now? However will I cope with the change?”

“Dude, seriously, am I old? Am I set in my ways?”

“Stiles, you’re twenty  _seven_. There’s a snowman outside with a hat you stole from me on its oversized head and we just had sex on a washing machine.”

“So, not boring? Or old?”

“You’re both; I don’t know why I stay with you.”

“I hate you.”

“Of course you do, old people hate everyone.”

Derek takes his plate, kisses his thank you on Stiles’ cheek while he’s still squawking protests and then heads into the living room. Stiles follows, grabbing mayonnaise and ketchup on the way because salad by itself is gross, nobody believes you if you say otherwise.

“I don’t hate everyone, I like Scott!” he settles down on the couch next to Derek looking smug.

“Doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”

“Old people always have that one person they vaguely remember and speak fondly of, even when they’re little shits.”

“Hey! You know he’s got a nice speech prepared for if we ever get married, filled with  _nice_  things about you.”

“Probably because you wrote it for him.”

“No, well, some of it.”

Derek crooks him a smug grin and Stiles rolls his eyes. “You won’t be invited to the bachelor party then.”

“I’ll have my own with Boyd.”

“You’re not allowed to call dibs on Boyd!”

“You can have Jackson.”

“Gee, wow, get the whole band back together, hey maybe Jackson can beat me with a lacrosse stick again. Really get me feeling nostalgic.”

“I have good memories of you in that lacrosse uniform,” Derek muses.

“Maroon wasn’t my colour.”

“I wasn’t talking about the colour,” Derek says firmly, eyes trailing down to Stiles’ calves.

“Really? My legs? You are so cliché.” Derek shrugs like it doesn’t bother him and Stiles supposes it probably doesn’t. It took Stiles a lot longer to get used to the idea of Derek being attracted to him than it did Derek. Derek decided he wanted Stiles, accepted it, and then spent months attempting a strange courtship that ended up with them having sex at a carnival.

Stiles is pretty sure there’s nothing that embarrasses Derek; from the way he looks at Stiles, even in public, even when Scott’s bitching about it in the background, to the fact he spent years perpetually half naked and running round their town looking like he’d rip anybody’s head off if they commented on it.

“You are something special,” he announces suddenly.

Derek looks up from his plate and quirks an eyebrow at him. “Thank you?”

“I’m just saying, it totally takes a special kind of person to put up with my shit.”

Derek drops his fork and wraps a hand around his ankle, fingers stroking over the bone. “No it doesn’t.”

“It totally does I mean, you are— you are one in a million, Derek Hale.”

Derek smiles, that tiny, stupid, perfect smile that’s barely there and always for Stiles and he wants to squirm away, already feeling self-conscious but Derek’s grip on his ankle tightens. “I don’t care if you get boring,” Derek says quietly. “I don’t think there’ll ever be a day when you don’t want to blow things up or take apart my watch just to see if you can put it back together again in less than a minute, I don’t think you’re ever going to get boring. But I don’t care if you do. I won’t care when you get old, I won’t care if you do the same thing every day, for the rest of your life. You’re the best, weirdest, least boring person I’ve ever met. Your routine will be  _our_  routine.”

Stiles swallows, messes with a hole in his shorts and then pushes his plate away to leap at Derek. He gets his hand covered in salad but it’s worth it just to cover Derek’s face in kisses.

“Sometimes I forget you know how make those big, romantic speeches,” he says a few minutes later.

Derek snorts, picks a piece of lettuce off Stiles’ shirt. “I’ll save the next one till your real mid-life crisis.”

“You  _are_  thoughtful like that.” Stiles shuffles around, making himself comfortable on top of Derek and waves the remote about.

“You wanna finish Green Street?”

Derek pulls a face and Stiles wiggles his eyebrows. “Come on, it’s not that bad, there’s even musical numbers in there. You know how much you love a good sing-song, Derek.”

Derek twirls his fork around his fingers and then flicks a tomato at Stiles’ head. “You can watch it later, when you’re sleeping on the couch if you like.”

“Sheets won’t smell like me but sure, I’ll crash down here if you’d prefer,” he shoots Derek a shit eating grin.

“But then who will kick me in the middle of the night?”

Stiles shrugs. “Could call Isaac in for an emergency cuddle session?”

Derek glowers at him, wraps his arms around him tightly. “Just put the fucking movie on, tomorrow I pick though.”

“Na uh, tomorrow we’re building a snow fort.”

“Fine, but we’re not using any more of my clothes for flags or décor.”

“Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> see other tags that can include #Derek is a secret domestic goddess #sudden romantic speeches #vague reference to washing machine sex #there should be more of that in this fandom in general? #someone please write it


End file.
